THE WINTER WOODS 167 



many o' them for the health of the fowls in these 

 parts." 



"I shouldn't want to kill a pretty little beast like 

 this ; he seems quite like a dog," said Nat, stroking 

 the pet Fox who was nosing about and begging for 

 sdraps. 



He was indeed a beauty, with his fluffy, reddish yel- 

 low fur, fine dark brush, bright eyes, and intelligent 

 face. He looked so innocent, too, not as if he could 

 outwit the cleverest of House People, or behead the 

 bigg^est gander in the flock with one bite of his little 

 white teeth. 



" I thought you didn't like Fox hunting. Uncle Roy, 

 and thought it cruel, and yet you are going yourself 

 to-night." 



"The Fox hunting I think cruel is not the necessary 

 and quick killing of a mischievous animal, but the habit 

 of keeping Foxes in what you might call a tame state, 

 encouraging them to breed on your ground, and then 

 turning out and chasing them with dogs trained for 

 the purpose, and when the poor Fox has run his best 

 and is spent (the longer he is kept going the better the 

 sportsmen like it), the dogs are allowed to tear him to 

 pieces. 



" The fashion of chasing any four-footed animal with 

 dogs seems to me no sport. Teaching one fourfoot to 

 tear another to bits is barbarous, according to m^- way 

 of thinking. Even hunting the Avild Fox with dogs 

 seems a waste of time, since, if we really wish to destroy 

 the beast, there are quicker ways of doing it without 

 putting dogs to the pain of such tiresome runs, or the 

 Fox through an agony of fear, which, to such an Intel- 



